Dr. Mabuse, master of mystery a novel
extinguished, then came again and flickered and was still. The engine
started again, and the boat was soon in the channel, gliding under the
trees, where it finally came to a standstill. The engine was silent,
and a man ashore threw out a cable. Then Mabuse heard someone say, “Dr.
Ebenhügel.”
“Yes,” he ordered, “let him come on board.”
A dim form stepped across the gangway.
“It is I, Ebenhügel, Doctor. I have just come from Zürich. It is on
account of my car that Solly did not give the signal punctually.
The Customs authorities are on the watch every night with their
cars now. Did you get my wire? There is something wrong, for the
clerk has sent a warning. He could not tell us what was up, but from
some reply to one of his superiors he gathered that it came to the
Consulate headquarters in Zürich from the Munich Criminal Investigation
Department.”
“So,” said Mabuse, closing his jaws firmly, “my lord Wenk is on the
track, is he? Just you wait a while, my fine official!” Then, turning
to Ebenhügel, he continued, “I am constantly in danger, but I’ve never
come to grief yet.”
“I meant to say that this danger can only be averted in Munich. If
anything goes wrong, they must not be able to put the responsibility on
us here in Zürich.”
Mabuse answered roughly, “What do you mean by that?”
“This affair is of great importance for several people.”
“For whom then?”
“For myself, for example!”
Mabuse waved his hand with a threatening gesture of dismissal, while
the other stood breathless.
“_I_ have not been drinking,” said Mabuse. “How came you to alter my
plans for such a trifle?”
“I thought it was necessary to warn you. The post is being watched, and
people are not reliable.”
“Who is to convince me that _you_ are reliable? You are one of the
people too.”
“Our common interests should convince you, Doctor. I merely meant to
tell you that it is from Munich that the danger threatens. You would be
safe in Switzerland. You have accumulated wealth which allows you to
live wherever you like. Stay here; you will be safe among us.”
“A lot _you_ know about that! Your business is to look after my
investments, nothing else. You are but my manager. Enough on that head.
Is there anything else to tell me?”
The lawyer described his latest financial operations to Mabuse, who
took down the descriptions furnished him. Then he walked backwards and
forwards alone on the foreshore for five minutes, to ease himself after
his long sitting.
“Is Spoerri still there?” he asked. “Spoerri, you need not go to
Zürich. Ebenhügel will take the portfolio with him. We will go back to
Schachen together.”
Upon the return journey Mabuse could not remain still in one place.
He was constantly backwards and forwards on the small deck. The three
convoys were again throbbing in their neighbourhood, their sounds
drowned in the ghostly darkness. Suddenly Mabuse called through the
speaking-tube to George, demanding brandy. Spoerri heard the order and
shrank in terror.
In the half-hour which the passage took, Mabuse drank the bottle empty.
He was drunk when they landed, and he staggered through the darkness
towards the house in front of them, having issued orders that they were
not to follow for five minutes.
“We want more drink,” said he, when they were in the dining-room.
“George, bring drinks!”
George shuddered, for he knew that the more the doctor drank, the more
violent and unreasonable he became. Spoerri himself was always obliged
to drink till he lost his senses. They drank champagne and brandy mixed
in equal parts.
“This is liquid gold,” stuttered Mabuse thickly. “Here, George, bring
bigger glasses! Let’s have the goblets. Spoerri, take a draught. You
fool of a courier, drink; drink it down, you dog. Down with it into
your currish throat! Now then, another! Drink till you can’t hold any
more in that carcass of yours. I love to see you drink till you’re
sick!”
Spoerri drank until everything swam round him and he lapsed into
unconsciousness.
“And you, my lord Wenk! A State Attorney in Munich! Your notebook!
_Your_ orders to the Criminal Investigation Department, forsooth! Just
wait a moment, my fine gentleman! We’ll begin with Herr Hull, for he
was the first.... (Drink, Spoerri, can’t you, you miserable country
bumpkin, drink; drink as I do!) Let me see--Hull, yes, Edgar Hull, 34,
Hubertusstrasse. Away with him, his turn first. George will look after
it, and you can help him. The Carozza girl can contrive it. Find your
accomplices. Write it down, it is the order of the ... Prince. (Drink
it down, now!) Of the Prince, have you written that? Which prince, do
you say? The Prince, the Emperor of Citopomar, in Southern Brazil. A
word from his mouth and a thousand women lie bathed in their blood,
five hundred men are reduced to impotence. One single word and a whole
edifice totters! Don’t simper, you fool, or I’ll dash your brains out
with this goblet!”
He flung the vessel down, shattering it in pieces, and with the
fragments he threatened Spoerri.
“I ... I am writing it,” stammered Spoerri.
“A thousand women and five hundred men,” shouted Mabuse.
“Doctor,” said Spoerri hesitatingly, struggling with the intoxication
overcoming his senses, “I did not hear; I do not know this Hull. What
am _I_ to do with him? 34, Hubertusstrasse.... Do you really mean _me_,
Doctor?”
Then Mabuse all at once stood upright, intoxicated as he was. “Yes,
you!” he thundered, and then gave Spoerri a heavy blow with his fist,
full on his forehead, knocking him senseless to the floor. “I am going
to bed, George,” he shouted, overcome with rage. He left Spoerri lying
where he was, and went out.
When he came into the dining-room again next morning, Spoerri was
sitting there. Mabuse had breakfasted in bed.
“Show me your notes!” he ordered in a harsh voice. He ran through
them quickly, found Hull’s address traced in drunken characters, and
returned the book to Spoerri. “That’s all right,” said he, and Spoerri
fawned upon him like a cur watching to avoid a kick.
That attitude of his did Mabuse good; it soothed and reconciled him,
and he became talkative. Spoerri was quietly delighted to find the
master friendly towards him, to know that the dread will of this
imperious man inclined him to be amiable, as if recognizing his
devotion.
“Spoerri,” said the Doctor, “I shall go to Constance with you. We
mustn’t let those young men do anything stupid!”
Spoerri brightened up. “Oh, when they once see you, Doctor, there’ll be
no trouble at all.”
The two men remained all day long at the villa. Mabuse drank, but
no longer compelled Spoerri to do so. By midday he was already
intoxicated. Spoerri, tired out by the carousal of the previous
night, watched over Mabuse devotedly. He tried many simple devices to
persuade him to stop drinking, but Mabuse soon saw through them, and
ordered full bottles to be brought and no tricks to be played. Alcohol
was a necessity to him; it inflamed his wild and evil spirit, and in
the phantasies of intoxication he found all his great ideas. There
was no thwarting of his will from without, and when drunk he felt
himself enclosed as in a castle of the _Arabian Nights_. Nobody could
understand that to him alcohol was the bringer of magic, the stream
which intensified life and gave him creative power. He bathed in it
as he might do in the love of some fair woman, yielding himself to it
wholly, bridging chasms, attempting new feats, working unrestrainedly
and overcoming all obstacles.... He became a law unto himself, a world
of which he was the sun.
“Spoerri, how do you like Europe?” he stuttered.
“Oh, very much, Doctor,” answered Spoerri unreflectingly.
Then Mabuse broke out vehemently, “You shall _not_ go to Citopomar, to
my Empire! Europe is a filthy, lousy country, fit for none but grubs
and earthworms. It is the home of parasites, of all creepy, crawly
creatures, but when I am in Citopomar--CITOPOMAR ... Spoerri, I shan’t
take you with me. I am going to sleep now, and will see you later.”
He staggered out, and lying in his bedroom on his bed, fully dressed,
he felt for a few moments as if he were himself the universe, beyond
and above all bounds and limits, the power of his will surging over him
as a stream of molten lava, bearing him with it towards the day when,
in his distant kingdom, his power would be supreme over man and beast,
and all Nature be subjugated to his impulses.
In the evening, when the twilight was descending, they drove to
Constance. Mabuse was sober, silent and morose. His imagination was
already busy and his nerves reacting to his stern resolves, as he
thought of the crowds of young men in the town, which seemed but a
mere speck on his horizon--men who had been working for him since the
Armistice. From this very town he himself had made a new start when
the war had driven him from his own vast plantations in the Solomon
Isles back into the European vortex, and he could find nothing better
to do than work for medical examinations and exchange his career in the
Pacific for that of a doctor in a town of Southern Germany.
VI
Wenk was awakened by a feeling of chilliness, which set him shivering.
He pulled his cloak round him, under the impression that the coverlet
had slipped off his bed, but he soon became aware of his error. He
sat up, feeling giddy and at first unable to recall anything. He came
slowly to himself and then he perceived where he was and saw the castle
buildings gleaming through the darkness.
He rose hastily and moved away, but he was still dazed, and had to jump
about to get any warmth into his body. What could the time be? He felt
for his watch, but it was not there, and then he went hastily through
his pockets. His purse was missing; so, too, were his pocket-book and
his official notebook. He had fallen into the hands of thieves. The
strange thing was how it could have happened that he had escaped with
his life?
Then sudden dread seized upon him. He held his head in his hands,
setting his jaws firmly, striving to subdue his feeling of despair.
His notebook was missing, and in this were to be found addresses,
reports, information, data, plans of all kinds.... The very first thing
he recalled about it was the opening page, on which the Hull affair
was fully set forth.... Wenk now hurried straight forward. If only he
could recover his notebook! He rushed on till he was out of breath,
then stopped and asked himself, “What shall I do? Go to the nearest
railway-station? But what is the time? It may be one o’clock, it may
be five. How am I to tell? And when would the first train start? It
might mean waiting in front of a closed railway-station for four, even
five hours!” Then he reflected that if he were to wake anybody in the
castle he would have to submit to questioning. No; that would do no
good. Should he make a fuss about it? It was clear that the chauffeur
had acted in obedience to the blond stranger’s orders. Had the latter
really penetrated his disguise and laid his plans so cautiously and
cleverly beforehand, or was it the usual thing that anyone who appeared
in any way suspicious should at once be put to the test in this way?
Could it be merely theft, and the book have been taken from him by
accident? He realized that when he seated himself on the cushions he
must have set the gas-current free, for there was no gas in the car
when he got in. That had been arranged, then. No, it wasn’t that way
either. It was something both simpler and safer. The driver could open
the gas valve from his seat. Of course that was the way of it.
Thinking thus, Wenk reached the highroad, only half-conscious of his
resolve to proceed to Munich on foot. He went as fast as he could, but